


The crawl of a smile

by jondiesattheend



Series: Hellfire [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Sexual Assault, M/M, Mentions of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Mentions of the Holocaust, None of the abuse is graphic, Rape Culture, Shaw is disgusting, Victim Blaming, aka an AU where Erik never escaped from Schmidt and wound up in the Hellfire Club with him, hellfire au, mentions of past sexual abuse, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jondiesattheend/pseuds/jondiesattheend
Summary: His skin crawls when Shaw smiles at him like that. It only ever means one thing.





	

It starts with the crawl of a smile. 

The doctor goes by Shaw these days, but he will always be  _ Schmidt _ to the boy he raised; his voice will always bring echoes of sterile halls and the clink of surgical tools, the damp misery of a room with no windows, deep, deep underground. 

_ (The heavy thud of boots passing by outside, of raised German voices and Erik could feel the blood of his people on them, he would look at his maker and beg questions with his eyes but there are no answers for things like this, none that he’d ever like to hear–) _

Schmidt is not the only one that has changed. Erik is a man now, in his twenties with a body of lean muscle and coiled tension, hands that wield silver like they were meant to be welded to them, and a powerful mind that brings the most magnificent structures folding in on themselves when properly enraged. A man, yes- but the control he’s been searching for all this time is still just out of reach. 

Shaw is Schmidt, and his mouth curls up like singed paper when he lets a needle drop to the vinyl underneath. Edith Piaf croons a familiar swan song from the record player, and Erik is suddenly fourteen again, Erik is–not like this anymore, he doesn’t need Schmidt to touch him, he’s never wanted him to,  _ please no you said this was medical you said it would fix me I’m fixed I’m fixed I don’t want _ –

 

_ (Come, Schöne Schätzchen.) _

_ no no no no no I don’t want it _

 

His heart is slamming in his ears and he’s shaking his head, cognizant for once, refusing to slip into the familiarity of listless, mute compliance. Most of the time, he can block it out, can function automatically, forget how to think. The aftermath is the same, but the process itself is more tolerable if he switches off. 

It’s not happening, this time. Erik is still standing rigid by the door, where he should have come to Shaw already, should’ve dropped and–

Something ugly stirs in the doctor’s face. Erik stares back at him. He sees Hell rising in Shaw’s eyes. He can’t move, can’t back away as Shaw advances on him, admonishing his prized weapon with series of tuts, like the boy should know by now that there’s no use in protesting. 

Erik braces himself. Another lesson is coming, one he’s already learned but tries desperately to shake off when Shaw’s claws slip out from under his skin. He can feel it.

 

_ No. _

 

His lip curls back in a snarl, there are words coming from his mouth that he barely hears, barely understands because surely this shaking ghost of a voice is not his– _ step away from me, Shaw. _

_ Shhhshsh, little one. You asked for this not a week ago.  _ **_You_ ** _ came to  _ **_me_ ** _. _

Erik is just starting to cry out in protest when the hand - cold - clamps over his mouth, and from then on there are no thoughts- only terror, and the frantic scuffle as he rips at Shaw’s fingers, yelps and snarls and  _ pleads _ when the first slow drags of energy are leeched out of him. It starts at the point of contact, an unsettling warmth on his skin; it’s easy for Shaw to shove his protege hard into the wall when Erik bites down on his hand.

Something like a smile stretches Shaw’s mouth, cold and inexorable. Erik is slammed into the floor, into a carpet that is soft but feels unbearably rough against his cheek and  _ no no  _ **_no_ ** _,_ he is screaming murder past the hands that suck the life from him but it’s a distraction,  because the metal headboard that belongs on the other side of the room is no longer there- it is  **here** and twisting around Shaw’s limbs; it yanks one arm back and twist-bends until the bones  _ crack-- _

He doesn’t dare look back to see the horror he’s unleashed; he flees, tearing out of the master bedroom and through the halls, metal trembling and shuddering with him as he goes. There will be Hell to pay, later- victory is always short-lived with Shaw- but by G-d, it’s  _ worth _ it.

**Author's Note:**

> Schöne Schätzchen - beautiful baby. Erik can't hear the phrase anymore without it triggering his PTSD.


End file.
